Mourning Dove
by MeltingSilver
Summary: AU: Medieval Fantasy. Aya and Crawford rule countries that are warring against each other. The remaining six are each Knights of the realm under their commanding lord. A cloaked young man appears, and suddenly the war takes an unexpected turn. (ch. 4 up)
1. A Teasing Poem

            A gentle breeze stirred the tops of old oaks and pines and the light brown hair of a young man. He pushed the wild strands back with one gloved hand and looked about with amber eyes, scanning the wild forests for any sign of intruders. A few more winds pushed his tunic and cloak around. The horse under him pawed the ground impatiently and threw it's head, wild gold mane shimmering. The young man looked into the dark eyes of his companion and smiled. 

            "You're bored, aren't you?" The horse snorted. "Don't worry. As soon as Yohji gets here, we can leave." 

            "That's SIR Yohji to you," said an adult's voice from several yards away, on the other side of the hill. Shortly a man appeared on a dark brown horse, dressed in light armor, his white outfit under the armor contrasting with his horse's dark fur. He reined the horse up next to the first one. 

            "Your horse seems to have put on weight, SIR Yohji. Have you been giving him too much to eat?" 

            "He's as thin as yours is, Omi." Yohji's horse stuck it's nose in Omi's white leather pocket. Omi snickered. 

            "Yet he can smell my uneaten lunch. Honestly." Omi pulled the small bag of smoked meat out of his pocket and put it in his opposite pocket. Yohji looked reproachful. 

            "Any horse can smell better than a human. Anyway, I came to get you. Ken's been looking for you." Omi raised an eyebrow. 

            "Ken? Why? He knows I'm out here at this time every day." 

            "Yeah, well, he forgets sometimes." Yohji waved an arm carelessly in the air. "So we should head back." The two of them steered their horses back in the direction Yohji had come from. 

            "So are there any new orders from Lord Aya yet?" Omi asked as they crossed a bridge. Yohji slumped in his saddle. 

            "No. None at all. I think he's still trying to get more men into the army by the 'Either join or die a pathetic death' type of offer." Omi laughed. 

            "He should just send us out to recruit men from the more remote villages." Yohji shrugged. 

            "Meh. It's his desicion." The two continued on in silence for awhile. They listened to the sound of their horses' hooves on the rock-dirt ground, the wind in the leaves, the sounds of the birds and the animals around them, the faint sound of people working in the fields, and, way off in the distance, the sound of forges working on making weapons for an army. Omi sniffed the air. 

            "I smell smoke." 

            "There's always smoke in the air. It's from the forges." Omi's eyebrows drew together. 

            "But this doesn't smell like smoke from a forge. It smells like wood burning." 

            Suddenly, both Omi's and Yohji's horses stopped moving and staggered back, snorting and throwing their heads. Yohji's horse whinnied. It sounded alarmed. Both men pulled their horses to a calm state of mind just as a third man came racing down the path on the back of a palimino. He managed to stop it's gallop before he slammed into the other two. 

            "Ken! What's wrong?" asked Omi, worried. Ken pulled himself upright, not caring if his hair fell in his eyes and blocked his vision. 

            "There's a fire, a huge fire, at one of the farms! We're having trouble putting it out, and we need the mages, all three of them!" Yohji stared at Ken incredulously. 

            "A fire? But I left ten minutes ago!" Ken hurridly brushed his hair back behind on ear. 

            "Yeah, I know, it was really weird, one minute everything was ok, the next, it was like, BAM! Come on! We need to get the mages!" Omi and Yohji nodded, and they both set off, led by Ken, down the path. 

            Omi bolted down the left path, Ken the right, and Yohji the left-center as they reached the four-way fork in the road. There were four mages, but one was too old to preform anything but Seeing; so they only went to get the mages who could summon up water. 

            Gaia, Omi's horse, was moving with speed only seen when one is in extreme danger. Omi leaned into the wind, his skin being cut slightly by the suddenly penetrated magic aura that surrounded the mage's home. He pulled Gaia to a sharp stop outside the small stone tower. 

            "Kala! We need you!" A man with long dark hair and a dark beard came out, dressed in dark red robes and holding a long wooden staff with a blood red stone in it. 

            Blade, Ken's palimino horse, bolted beyond physical speed down the path, leaving three foot spaces between his hoofmarks. Ken winced a bit as his skin prickled and stung when he passed through the magic shield that surrounded the now black stone tower ahead of him. He reined Blade in. 

            "Galo! We need your help!" he cried. The horse danced nervously, throwing his body this way and that. A man with long silver hair and a silver beard, dressed in red robes and holding a long wooden staff with a blood red stone in it, came out. 

            Silver, Yohji's horse, moved like a flash of light across the now stony path. Yohji hardly noticed the sharp feeling when he passed through the shield to reach the small gray tower at the edge of the forest. Silver needed no help to stop moving. 

            "Shimayo! Hurry!" A man with long gold-blonde hair and a gold-blonde beared wearing red robes and holding a long wooden staff with a blood red stone in it came out without hesitation. 

            All three horsemen waited for the mage they were fetching to get on the horse, then tore down the path, leaving clouds of dust behind them. They met at the fork and raced their horses across the grassy plain, seeing the fire, fearing for the lives of the villagers, and wondering who did this. 

            As they reached the edge of the fire, they pulled their horses to a stop, and the mages got off. All three mages began summoning water. Dark clouds gathered above the blaze, and a downpour began. Torrents of water splashed onto the fire, and within moments the blaze was out. 

            Omi, Ken, and Yohji watched all this from horseback. A few guards ran up to them. 

            "I wonder...who did this?" asked Yohji. Omi shook his head. 

            "Whoever did it is sick." One of the guards held up a bloody arrow with a note tied to it. Ken, being nearest, grabbed it, and pulled the note off it. 

            "We found this in the back of one of the men nearby," said the guard who had brought it. Omi and Yohji leaned in to read what was on the note. Omi frowned, Ken snarled, and Yohji pulled out his sword and cut an invisible enemy in half. 

            "Damn! That bastard..!!!" Omi looked up as Ken folded the note. 

            "We should bring this to Lord Aya." All three nodded gravely and turned their horses to face the main city, surrounded by a large wall, and the castle beyond it. None of them really liked the prospect of what would happen when they presented the note to Lord Aya because of what was written on the bloody piece of parchment. 

            Lord Aya was, at the time, sitting on his throne and brooding. The room was virtually empty, save him, a few guards, and one of his advisors. She had long, curled red hair, and was leaning calmly against his throne. 

            "You could just send your knights to go find more men," she said softly. 

            Aya growled. The woman glanced at him, then examined her nails. 

            "If you insist on being so dead set on your plans - which aren't working, by the way - then be that way." Aya's violet eyes moved up to glare at the woman next to him. 

            "If you insist on being so dead set on changing my plans, Manx, then would you leave the room?" Man glared down at him. For a moment they matched gazes, then Manx stood upright and stalked out of the room. Her red dress followed her out of the room, and Aya heard the door shut. He sighed. Peace and quiet at last. 

            It was interrupted, however, by the sudden arrival of his three knights, Omi, Ken, and Yohji. Yohji was leading them, holding something tightly in his hand. All three approached Aya and fell to one knee. 

            "Lord Aya." 

            "Rise." All three stood. Yohji approached him and held out the hand with a piece of parchment in it. 

            "One of the farms was attacked only a few minutes ago, and this was found tied around an arrow which had struck a man." Aya stared at the paper, then took it. He opened it and looked at the words, which were written in red ink. Blood. 

            _Fight me all you want _

_            Send armies of your might _

_            But I think it's plain to see _

_            The noose is getting tight. _

_            One day I'll charge your castle _

_            And slay all those within _

_            Your sister, among those first to die _

_            And you'll suffer instant sin. _

Aya's hand clenched around the note, crushing it in extreme rage. His breath was released in hissing sounds through his teeth. His eyes were narrowed with anger. Yohji, Omi, and Ken were shifting nervously in place. 

            "Who did it?" All three whipped their gazes to Aya. Yohji looked at Ken, then Omi. Then he looked back to Aya and sighed. 

            "We think it was Crawford." 

            "I know he wrote the note." Aya raised his shaking violet gaze to the three men in front of him. "Who lit the fire?" 

            "Probably Farfello." Aya growled. Of course. 

            "Scout the forests and look for him. Anybody." The men nodded, and left the room. 

            Aya unclenched his hand and looked at the crumpled note. For a moment, he stared, and hesitated. Then he threw the note to the ground and stormed out of the room, out the same way Manx had gone, calling his closest advisors. He was going to have a little 'war talk' with them. 


	2. Planning the First Move

"I did it." The red haired man looked over at the new arrival. 

            "Did what?" A white haired man sat down on the cold stone floor. 

            "I lit it on fire." His right eye, a bright gold in color, was fixated on the knife he had just pulled out of his belt. "And I shot somebody." The first man raised an eyebrow. 

            "Did you kill the person you shot? You're not always a perfect aim." The gold eye, and it's metal-covered counterpart met with Schuldich's eyes. 

            "Yes. I hit him in the back of the neck. He caused God great pain when he fell into the flames." Farfello put his hand, palm down, on the ground, and started stabbing his fingers in order with the knife. His left eye was not visible for the metal bandana that went around his head and covered his eye. Schuldich watched the man hurt himself for awhile. It was something he was used to, but he was getting blood all over the floor… 

            "This hurts God." Farfello picked up his hand and looked at the bleeding marks all over his fingers. "This MUST hurt God. And all the churches I've burned must have hurt him, too." Farfello looked distant for a moment. "There will be more churches to burn, and more people to find, and more ways for me to hurt God…" He was warming up for a rant when Nagi walked in. 

            Nagi stopped in the doorway, chain mail over the black tunic and leggings he was wearing. He scowled when he saw the blood staining the floor. 

            "You wouldn't mind cleaning that up, would you? And make it fast. Lord Crawford wants to see us." Schuldich leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on a nearby table. 

            "So soon? What, we have another 'mission' from the big man?" Nagi narrowed his eyes, and one of Farfello's knives came dangerously close to Schuldich's face. 

            "You are not one to question orders, now, are you, Schuldich?" Nagi asked in a quiet voice. The knife suddenly plummeted back in front of Farfello. 

            "And who are you to give ME orders, Nagi? Come on. I'm older than you. By a lot." Nagi scowled again. Schuldich grinned and rested his head on his hand. "Are you going to argue with THAT?" 

            "You're older, I'll give you that. But that's all. We're of the same rank, and you need to – " 

            "Yeah, I was meaning to talk to Lord Crawford about that. Why are YOU at the same level I am, hm?" Nagi glared daggers at Schuldich. 

            "Just hurry up and get to the throne room, ok?!" he hissed. Farfello stuck the dagger back in his belt. 

            "Fine, fine," Schuldich said lazily, standing up and stretching, obviously not caring how long he took. Nagi gave him a dark look. Schuldich didn't seem to have any care for orders they got from their King, but he was one of the best fighters. It pissed Nagi off. 

            Eventually the three of them made their way down the darkened halls, lit only by sparse torches, and to the black oak doors of the throne room. Schuldich pushed open the doors and the three of them strode down the black carpet to about five feet away from the man, dressed entirely in black, sitting on the throne. 

            Crawford glared at his three appointed knights, especially hard at Schuldich. 

            "You're late." 

            "Sorry." Crawford's nails dug into the obsidian throne at Schuldich's casual attitude. He hid the anger that would usually come out in the form of a death sentence. 

            "I received word that Farfello accomplished his mission of torching one of Aya's farms….?" Farfello nodded solemnly. "And did he get the note?" Farfello nodded again. Nagi watched Farfello out of the corner of his eye. The man was so perfectly stotic and solemn. One of the few rare times he ever was like this was when he was in the presence of Lord Crawford. 

            "Excellent." Crawford was still mad at Schuldich for being so calm about everything. Fortunately, he hoped Aya was even madder than he was about the note. Yes…he was going to kill everything that man had…….and then – 

            "Are you going to give us a mission or something?" asked Schuldich, flipping his hair over his shoulder. "Because there are other things we could be doing." 

            "One more word like that from you, Schuldich," Crawford growled, looking extremely angry, "and I will have you skinned alive. Are we clear?" 

            Schuldich shrugged but said nothing more. 

            "Yes, I do need you three to do something." Crawford took a map from a nearby guard. "You are going to take over a village near the bridge which leads to Aya's territory. You know which one I'm talking about." 

            It was almost funny to watch the change of expressions on all three faces of the men in front of him. At the least, it was amusing; Nagi's went from contempt to surprise, Schuldich's from way-too-casual to shocked, and Farfello's from dull to….well, his only visible eyebrow raised. 

            "But…that's…." Nagi began. 

            "Aya's territory?" Nagi fell silent. "Yes. It's time to start moving in. I want to take over his kingdom, and this will be our start." He gazed at the map, then held it out. "Nagi, take the map and begin planning strategies. Have the city captured in at least a week. Now get out of my sight." Nagi stepped up, took the map, and left, Farfello and Schuldich behind him, both stumbling along like they were in a daze. 

            Crawford watched them go and sighed when they were gone. He slumped in his throne, his face dropped to his hand, and his elbow rested on the right arm of the throne. He'd planned this attack for weeks, but bringing it out to the three knights had been harder than he'd thought. They'd seemed so surprised that he'd handed them this battle so soon. Well, get used to it, he thought bitterly. You'll have a lot more than just little villages to take over soon. 

            "What was he thinking?!" exploded Schuldich when they were back in the privacy of their small bunk room. "We're charging right into Aya's territory, and only God knows what he's got in there!" Farfello snarled. "Sorry." 

            "It's only a small village," Nagi said, putting a pin into the map Crawford had given him. "I'll bet Aya doesn't even regard it as his. And if he does, why would he put any fighters in there? It's tiny." 

            "A waste of people," Schuldich reluctantly agreed, and flopped down in a chair next to the table with the map on it. "A waste of good fighters. Sad to say they're good." 

            "Bah." Farfello sat down on the other side of the map and started poking himself with a pin. "So what's the plan?" 

            "We'll start by moving some units in here," Nagi said, pointing to the map with a pin. "Then move some in from the forest after the distraction takes place. That should keep them busy." He bit his lip, then pointed to the other side of the village. "Then we move even more in from here, and surround them, and destroy the bridge. That'll block their only way out." Schuldich grinned slightly. 

            "Shouldn't we destroy the bridge first…?" Nagi hesitated, then nodded. 

            "Yeah…that would work…" he moved some pins and re-spoke the plan. Farfello looked at the map. 

            "And if anybody comes in from here – " he put a finger down on the other side of the river – "We'll kill them. Right?" 

            "Right," agreed Nagi. Farfello ran his finger down into the village, leaving a trail of blood behind. He lifted his finger and put it in his mouth. 

            "Good going, Farfie." Schuldich leaned back. "So when's the attack?" 

            "Two days from now, I think." Nagi pulled all the pins out of the map and put them in a small box. "We need to prepare the soldiers and get ready for this. It's at least a one day walk, 6 hours if we run." 

            "And rest," Schuldich added. "We need to give them time to rest." 

            "Eight hours, then," Nagi growled. He rolled up the map and put it and the box away. Then he pulled off his chain mail and vanished through one door. Schuldich looked at Farfello, who was playing knife games again. 

            "Get some sleep, Farfie," Schuldich said as he stood up. "You'll need it." 

            "Uh huh," Farfello said absentmindedly as he stabbed himself. 

            Schuldich rolled his eyes and stalked into his room, which was the same dark stone as everything else was. His bed was positioned in one corner, and a desk in the other; not like he ever used it. With a sigh he flopped down on the bed, then winced, because he'd forgotten to take off his armor. He flung the heavy metal across the room and put both hands under his head. 

            The ceiling was dark, and there was only one window. Because it was night, he couldn't see any lights pouring in, and it was above his bed, so….

            Schuldich shut his eyes tightly. The blankets pulled themselves up to his shoulder level, and he fell asleep shortly after. 


	3. To Charge a Village

"The horse doesn't like me." 

            "You have said that every day since you got on a horse. Don't you think it's obvious we can SEE that the horse doesn't like you?" Schuldich gave Farfello an incredulous look. "Besides, what horse would like a knife-wielding fire-obsessed psycho like you?" Farfello growled. 

            "Stop it. We need to start out, and fast. We're as close to the village as we'll ever get without being noticed." Nagi trotted up between the two of them on his dark-furred horse and looked out over the hills, hair whipping in his face. His eyes were narrow with determination. "I'm going to take the first group around to destroy the bridge, alright? Remember – Schuldich follows from the front when he hears the sounds of a battle, and Farfello, you come through the forest when Schuldich gives the signal." Both men nodded, although Schuldich thought it was a little out of place that Nagi was giving HIM orders. 

            Nagi obviously read his mind and scowled. 

            "If you haven't noticed, I am the smart one here. If you had, perhaps, been a little more diligent in your assignments and battles, you might have gotten a higher status." Schuldich clutched his horses' reins. Nagi hardly looked at him. "And if you were something more than a fighter and practiced other skills, maybe Crawford would let you match my rank." 

            "We ARE matched in rank, you little brat!" snarled Schuldich. He reached for his sword. He almost made it, but the combined forces of Nagi and Farfello holding him back from doing it with their minds stopped him. 

            "Just get your forces ready. Ok?" Nagi started off, leaving a seething Schuldich and a watchful Farfello behind. 

            "'I am the smart one', indeed…stupid little – " 

            "Soldiers." The one word from Farfello snapped Schuldich out of his mood, and he was happy again – at least on the outside. Oh well, he'd get some of the rage out when he charged headfirst into the little town. He rode over the soldiers and glared at them all. 

            "We wait until we hear the sounds of a fight starting. Then we move in. The first little shit to move in before that loses a certain part of him that usually means a lot to a man. Got it?" The soldiers all nodded, several gulps from younger ones heard. Schuldich was well known for carrying out his threats. 

            They moved slowly, Schuldich leading on his black horse. Internally he sweated. This armor was _hot. _It was black, almost full body, and his tunic was black under it. His helmet, thankfully, was thin and light, and didn't cover a whole lot of his head, so he could get some breeze up there. But everywhere else was generally flaming hot. Damn summer. 

            He arrived at the hill where they were supposed to be within minutes. He squinted at the town not too far ahead, and thought he saw large movement of black shadow. Damn Nagi! Damn Nagi's ability to move his troops like that! And damn HIM for being unable to do the same thing! 

            The sounds of a battle started while he was waiting, and suddenly he heard the snapping and cracking of the bridge plunging into the water. He pulled his sword out and charged, his soldiers following. They stormed across the grass. Nothing was left alive behind them. With Schuldich in the lead, his sword out, his horse galloping, a fraction of the army rushing imperiously around and behind him, it was a menacing sight, indeed. 

            They met with the village's guards at the entrance. Schuldich came to an almost sudden stop to fight, while his small army attacked anybody with a sword. Schuldich was considered the best fighter in the entire army, next to Crawford, and here he displayed his skills madly. He could manuver his horse and take out whoever was around him, AND catch sight of his comrades to make sure he wasn't killing off his own soldiers or missing any signals. 

            Farfello sat on his black horse in the forest, being bored, occasionally scratching himself with a nearby thorn bush. Suddenly, he saw a bright flashing light, and Schuldich on his horse, reflecting the sun's rays off his sword. Farfello whipped his horse into action, and his soldiers, startled by his actions, followed after, stumbling and trying to keep their senses together. 

            The village was surrounded, the people were terrified. Schuldich and Nagi rode the town center. 

            "This village," Schuldich crowed, "Is now under the command of Lord Crawford! You will accept him as your ruler or suffer the consequences of death!" While he did this, Nagi kept a watchful eye out for any escapees who might have run off to inform Aya of the attack. He glared as he thought he saw something silvery white slide into the forest. 

            "Schuldich…" The red haired man glanced over, saw the movement, smirked, and nodded. He set off at an amazing speed and started off toward the movement. Nagi then turned his horse to face the church. It was a small church, but a church none the less. 

            Farfello was standing in front of it, laughing insanely, his soldiers scattered around it, wondering if they should put out the blaze that was now enveloping the stone building. The older ones were quite sure that they shouldn't, because they'd seen this happen before. Farfello always torched the churches he passed. He took extreme joy in doing so, because he was sure it hurt God. 

            "This hurts God!" he howled as the flames attacked everything in and around the church. "This most definitely hurts God. Hahaaa!!!!" Nagi sighed. Why did the man have to do this every time they passed a village…? Oh well…if it kept him from killing everybody in sight to hurt God… 

            Schuldich chased after the white-clad person, who was racing into the forest. It was simple. Catch the guy and kill him. Maybe have a little fun with him. A grin spread across Schuldich's features, and within moments he had overtaken the man on the road and knocked him over with one hand. The white cloaked one stumbled and hit the ground, then whirled to face Schuldich, who had reined his horse around and come to a stop. 

            "What's this?" he asked playfully. "A messenger, running to tell KING Aya that he's just lost a village to LORD Crawford?" The man glared at Schuldich. 

            "Yes, I was! And I will fight you to the death!" He drew a longsword from his side. Schuldich snorted, dismounted his horse, and pulled out one of the only three ever created Schwartz swords; a sword made of pure black obsidian on the hilt, and engraved with unique designs for each of Crawford's three Knights of the Realm. The blade was made of a metal that not even Crawford knew what it was, but whatever it was, it was STRONG. There were no designs carved into it purely for the face that it was so unbreakable. But it was black. And the man in the white cloaked paled when he saw the sword. 

            Schuldich snickered at the look. 

            "You…you are…" 

            "One of the three Knights of LORD Crawford's Realm. Schuldich, to be exact." He waved his sword in a menacing way. "You still want to fight to the death?" 

            The man hesitated, then charged. Schuldich raised one eyebrow and parried the attack without any effort. He did this several times, all the while throwing insults and random comments into the fight. 

            "Is that all you've got?" he asked when the man stopped attacking for a few moments to regain his breath. 

            "This...I will kill you….I will not let you live!" Schuldich rested his sword's tip on the ground like a staff. 

            "I've heard that a lot. That, and 'Why don't you just die and go to hell?!'. Don't you people have any other threats to throw at me?" The man pulled his sword up over his shoulder for another attack. Schuldich sighed. Now he was getting bored. This man was no fun. 

            He stopped the man from moving by freezing him with his mind, then plucked the sword from the man's grasp with his mind. The man was shocked to see his sword fly from his hands and embed itself in a tree. When Schuldich released him, he backed off. 

            "What? Scared now? Or did you forget that we three and LORD Crawford have special powers?" He smirked and tapped his head lightly. The man fell back a few steps, obviously planning on stealing Schuldich's horse and making a run for it. He moved faster than Schuldich had expected, but was stopped fast by Schuldich's mind. 

            "Ah ah ah….are you trying to get away?" he murmured. The man fought desperately to free himself, but Schuldich had a firm grip on him. He sauntered over to the man, and put his sword right at the messenger's neck. "I wonder what would happen if I stuck this in your throat, hm?" He grinned at the man's whimpers. "Oh wait. I already know what." 

            "You'd die, right?" The man snarled, summoning up the last of his courage. 

            "One day, Lord Aya will bring an end to your reign of terror!" Schuldich glowered. 

            "One day, I am going to corner him in his castle, and LORD Crawford will kill him." Schuldich slit the messenger's throat and waited for the man to collapse, bleeding, onto the ground. Then he remounted his horse and trotted back to the village. 

            Nagi was there, waiting for him. Most of the guards had obviously gone back to the campsite they had set up on the halfway point. Farfello was happily dancing around the firey ruins of the church, chanting, "God is suffering! This hurts God!" 

            "Did you kill him?" 

            "Yeah. It was a messenger. Doesn't really matter, though…I'll bet that the news get to Aya sooner or later…" Schuldich leaned back boredly in his saddle, and Nagi leaned forward. 

            "We should get back to the castle as soon as possible. Lord Crawford will want to hear of this. And try to be a bit more decent with him, will you?" Schuldich just looked at Nagi with a grin on his face. Nagi glared. "I MEAN it. And - ! Farfello! Don't torch yourself!" 

            "But this hurts God even MORE!!!" cried the psycho, running out of the flaming church, which shortly after collapsed. Nagi put out the fire mentally and heaved Farfello onto his horse. The horse looked thoroughly startled, and especially pissed at having the weird guy on his back, but Nagi's glare kept it from hurling the man off his back. 

            "Alright. Let's go." Schuldich led the way out, Nagi followed, and Farfello's horse dragged the man along. They followed the beaten tracks where they army had dissipated to, with a few other soldiers behind them. 


	4. Wall of Water

Aya stood over the silent bed, his face, for once, not angry or dark. It wore a shadowed look, one of memories and sadness. 

            The girl lying in the bed was silent and unmoving. The only movements Aya saw was her chest as she breathed. Every morning, before anybody else woke up, when the sun was just rising, he stole out of the castle via his window and went to the church. There he would kneel and pray for this girl's life. He prayed to God that she continued on living, as she had lived every day since the one day that had put her into the silent, sleeping state she was trapped in now. He prayed to God that one day she would wake up. 

            He prayed to God, every morning, that one day his sister would prove that she was alive. 

            Oh, he knew she was alive; but this state she was in certainly said she wasn't going to go on like this for the rest of her life. As he gently brushed a few strands of hair off her closed eyes, the line of the poem Crawford had sent him sneered through his mind. 

            _Your sister, among those first to die… _

Aya growled. It had been Crawford who did this. Crawford sent the assassin. Crawford sent the poison. Crawford caused this terrible curse to break free of the surface and steal into Aya's life. 

            He remembered it like it was yesterday; how the two of them, Aya and his sister, had walked down the hall to go eat. He hadn't been hungry. His _sister looked up from her plate. _

_            "Not hungry?" she asked, smiling. Aya looked up. _

_            "....No, not really." He pushed the plate toward her. "Would you like a taste?" _

_            "Sure!" she'd responded. Her fork reached out, touched the food, pulled a tiny bit to her mouth. She chewed and swallowed, then looked thoughtful. _

_            "How was it?" She was silent. Then, a grin spread across her perfect features. _

_            "Delicious!" Aya smiled a tiny bit and pulled the plate back, wondering if he should eat it or not. His sister stood up. _

_            "Where are you going?" _

_            "To see my new foal, silly!" She'd laughed at his stupidity and walked off down the hall. Aya watched her. She walked so smoothly, with such perfect grace and beauty. She should rule, not me, he thought. Shortly after he chased her down, deciding to come with her to visit the horses; he thought his horse needed a good brushing. _

_            As they talked, Aya noticed his sister's steps suddenly falter. She coughed, choked, and her eyes grew wide. _

_            "I……I……" Aya looked at her. _

_            "What? What is it?" His sister continued to stare straight ahead. _

_            Then she collapsed. Her legs gave out and she fell to the marble floor. Aya caught her before she could land, and kneeled down with her in his arms. _

_            What happened next, the _memories were vague. People had come. They had taken her from him. When he saw her next, she was lying in a bed, with the greatest magician around sitting next to her bed. He was old, and frail, with a white beard and _white hair. _

_            "She has been poisoned," said the old man. Aya's eyes grew wide with terror. _

_            "What?! Poisoned?!!! Does that mean…is she…" His voice faltered as he looked at his beautiful sister's still body in the bed. _

_            "No," said the old man, shaking his head slightly. "She is not dead. Only sleeping. Whatever poison she received was only in a small dose." _

_            Aya shuddered, then ran from the room with one hand clasped over his mouth. It had been him. He had poisoned her. By giving her the food he was not hungry for. That tiny bite had put her to sleep. _

_            He threw up in his room, in the sink. And he stood there, not fighting back the tears that streamed down his face. Asleep. Dead. There was little difference in those words right now. Was she ever going to wake up..? _

_            He _shook his head. No. He was not going to remember those few tortured weeks he'd spent trying to find out who did this. Wary, hanging on every word about his sister, waiting to find out who did it… 

            Only to find out it was his neighbor. Crawford. 

            The two countries had been teetering dangerously on the edge of war. This was the last straw for Aya, and he'd plunged both countries into war. Now they were fighting. They had been fighting for just over a year now. Aya continually had the urge to charge into Crawford's country himself, draw his sword, and run the man through. 

            But would it hurt her… 

            He left the room and returned to his throne. Just as he got there, he saw Manx standing next to the gold and black gilt chair. 

            "Manx..?" She looked him straight in the eye. 

            "I have bad news." 

            "….what?" 

            "One of your smaller villages has been taken over by Crawford." Her gaze penetrated Aya's violet one. He didn't move for the sudden shock of hearing those words. "His three Knights took it early this morning, by surprise force and surrounding the people." 

            "Couldn't they escape by the bridge?" Aya choked out. 

            "It was destroyed first." Manx looked out one of the slim windows. "Then they charged from the front, and finally from the forest. As usual, the only messenger to escape was slain, and the church was burned to the ground." 

            "…" Aya stood still for a moment, then sat down in his throne. He ran a hand through his hair. How could this have happened?! Right under his nose… 

            "What are you planning to do?" asked Manx. 

            "Increase the amount of soldiers in every village, no matter how remote. I want that place back." 

            "That will be hard," Manx said. "The bridge has been rebuilt and every person who passes there is checked by Crawford's men." Aya snarled, and Manx took it as an invitation to leave. She knew better than to hang around when Aya was this angry. 

            And across the river, across another country, Crawford snickered in his throne. He'd received word that the little village was his now, and Aya had probably gotten word of it. Crawford dearly hoped the man was seething, looking for revenge. It would be fun to fight him again. 

            He'd been pleased at how fast Nagi had gotten the village under his control; he'd given them a week and they'd finished it in two days. Speed is good. 

            Crawford left the room and headed to his bedroom. A small but luxurious room far in the back of the castle, in the dead center, almost. It was safest there. He could escape at a moment's notice because of an underground passage. It had been there before he'd ascended to the throne. 

            As he sat down on a chair in his room, about to plan out his next moves in capturing Aya's country, everything flashed black and red. He stopped breathing. It felt like he was drowning. Everything around him looked like it was behind seen behind swirling glass, or a twisted mirror, or water. Everything was up in flames, white flames, instead of red ones. Black stones were burning. He saw bodies. Six bodies. 

Suddenly the curtain of water lifted. He saw that the burning stones around him were like the black stones of his castle, and the six bodies were those of his Knights and Aya's Knights. All six were unconscious, badly hurt, and sprawled across the ground like they had just been in a fierce battle. 

He was holding his sword. He glared and whirled, trying to see anything around him except the burning black and white and the possibly dead bodies of the six men around him. 

Footsteps echoed around him. Crawford turned to face the source of the sound, and saw a body, a person, walking toward him. Dressed in white. Gripping a silver sword. Who was this? 

The sword was pulled entirely from it's sheathe, and the figure charged, red hair whipping wildly around violet eyes – 

And suddenly it was over. Crawford was back in his chair, bent over, trying to breathe. He drew in his breath, scowled, and sat up. Another vision. 

Red hair? Violet eyes? A silver sword, thinner than any sword he'd ever seen before? Was it possible that this was Aya? Had he just forseen his own death, mirrored in the shining blade of the man who held it? 

Crawford leaned back and pondered. The last time he'd seen Aya was years and years ago, back when they were both children. He'd only been a prince then, and maybe not the first in line; his father had taken him over to Aya's father's country to work out a peace treaty. 

_He followed his father, not wanting to be here, even less wanting to see his 'rivals' set out as his allies. He'd been taught all his life not to trust people who wore too much white, and this entire place was decked in it! _

_They entered the throne room. It had less white, some red, and some gray stone, but still no black to remind him of his home. It had been a long journey over here, and he'd felt sick halfway through. Now he felt surrounded, enclosed, trapped, by all this white. _

_As his father positioned him next to him, Crawford looked around. This room was bigger than the others. He moved only his eyes, and then his eyes landed on the boy standing next to the throne. Red hair, violet eyes, and a dark expression. This boy also wore white, like almost everybody else in the room. Next to the boy, who looked about Crawford's age, was a little girl with blue hair. She was smiling, looking at him with friendship and kindness. _

_It was after all the delegations and boring stuff were over that the three young children were left alone. Crawford wanted to leave. Badly. It was boring enough having these two happy-go-lucky brats around. But did that little girl have to keep asking him if he wanted to play? _

_His father came in the room, and as he was about to leave, he turned around halfway and gave the two other kids a death glare. The girl ran to her brother, who in turn, held her and glared back at the exiting Crawford. _

When he'd received word that Aya's sister, the little blue-haired brat, had been put into deep sleep and not killed by the poison, he had the assassin executed. Of course, it wasn't all the assassin's fault; maybe Aya hadn't been hungry that day. Well, it drove Aya to the point of war, which was Crawford's second hope. 

Aya seethed in his room. 

Crawford planned the next attack in his room. 

Omi and Ken were busy grooming the horses, and Yohji was outside flirting with some of the maids. 

Nagi was working on a map of the continent in his room, and Schuldich and Farfello were arguing over who got to lead the next attack, when it came. 

And walking on Aya's side of the river was a mysterious, cloaked figure, who's face was not visible except for a smirk on the mouth. 


End file.
